


Spidey, Spidey, Give Me Your **** (Love, Suckers. Love.) Anyway… I got a bad case of loving you… (Or the one where Peter is a nurse but not in a kinky way)

by Lilian



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Explicit Language, Identity Reveal, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, nurse!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian/pseuds/Lilian
Summary: Nurse Parker is sent to make sure one of the patients in his hospital is recovered enough to be discharged. He doesn’t expect to recognize the scarred man as Deadpool, his sort of friend/college/person he might have certain feelings for.





	Spidey, Spidey, Give Me Your **** (Love, Suckers. Love.) Anyway… I got a bad case of loving you… (Or the one where Peter is a nurse but not in a kinky way)

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the wonderful and talented Lizardyne! Thank you so much :)  
> Beta'd by the phenomenal and lovely Queertrex. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.  
> Lastly, a huge shout out to hippocrates460, who (besides being awesome) brainstormed the title with me and came up with the only part of it that's not super lame. Thanks, dear.

**Aladdin:** _(_ _appears at Jasmine’s door in a prince costume_ _)_ Knock, knock, knock! Did somebody order… a prince?

 **Jasmine:** _(whips around, surprised but delighted, reading his name off her hand)_ Aladdin! 

 **Aladdin:** How the fuck did you know it was me?

 **Jasmine:** Because it **is** you, you’re just wearing different clothes!

(from Starkid’s Twisted)

 

A/N: I grew a bit tired of the fics where masked superheroes spend all their free time together half in a secret costume half without and have no fucking clue that the other is the other even though they clearly pay enough attention to each other to notice a fuckton of subtler things about them. Especially so when said people are referred to as ‘intelligent’ more than once. Because you know how easy it is to recognize a person?! Very.

(that being said, _never_ stop! I love the trope :D) 

 

 

Humanity might be doomed as a whole, but there are still kind people who sometimes call ambulances on heavily bleeding, spandex-wearing mercenaries. After certain types of injuries, Deadpool wakes slower, and it seems like getting shot in the head, chest and dangly bits several times takes long enough to heal. By the time he comes to, he is in a hospital bed, looking straight into the eyes of a gorgeous brunette in a lab coat leaning over him with a quizzical expression. Wade’s fingers fly to his face. Someone stripped him of his mask… and his gloves. 

*

One of the doctors sends him to the “mutant” who seems to be healing quite fine on their own, to see if they are well enough to be kicked out. A new patient needs the bed. (Isn’t that depressing, that this is the world we live in?)

It’s the first interesting thing that happens to Peter all day, one that has a good shot at distracting him well enough to forget about Deadpool (for a while, anyway).

They’ve been patrolling together semi-regularly over the last… months? Jesus, time passes quickly, and it seems as if the more time they spend together, the more Peter thinks about him when they’re _not_ together. But Deadpool is not good relationship material, no matter how enamored he acts around him. Most of it is probably a joke anyway.

The ‘mutant’ in bed three is not someone Peter recognizes. Just when he was fairly certain that he knew most X-Men and their associates in the city. But this guy is scarred, bald, and very muscular. Just as Peter moves closer to examine his scars, his eyes snap open, startlingly blue and aware. They stare at each other for a few seconds, then the man exclaims:

“Awww, you cutie!” In a shockingly familiar voice. _Could_ _it_ _be...?_ “Wait, I’ve read an AU like this before! Is this the part where I ask you out because I’m high on drugs and you tell me we’ve been married for two years?”

 _Yeah, there’s no way this is_ not _Deadpool._

“Three,” Peter corrects dryly.

Deadpool blinks up at him, momentary confusion written all over his very, very scarred face. It’s no wonder he always sticks to the shadows whenever they eat something.

“What?”

“Three,” Peter repeats, trying to keep his face neutral. This is a very fine joke, and it would be ruined by a smile or a frown. Even if one of the sores on Wade’s face suddenly opens up, oozing a slightly yellowish liquid. It’s not the nicest sight, although it doesn’t really compare to what Peter found in Mr. Wheeler's bed this morning. So while Peter has to admit it’s not very attractive, Deadpool’s skin, but with a bit of time, he can get used to it. He’s a nurse for godsakes, he knows the diseased skin is only the surface level, and just about the least important thing about someone’s personality. “We’ve been married for three years, and I can’t believe you forgot.”

Deadpool stares at him, muttering under his breath.

“Naw, I couldn’t be able to snatch you up, and this is not an alternate universe. We think. Not enough tentacles.” He flops back on the bed, still holding Peter’s gaze. “You know what gorgeous, actually, I’ve been in a few alternate universes before. One of my favorites had baby unicorns in the...

As he prattles on, Peter looks him over again, and again. His eyes are beautiful, his face even more expressive without the mask – this chance meeting does not help his crush at all.

 

*

The very, very pretty nurse smiles at him wildly. Repeatedly. And he can see his face! And he’s still grinning.

Something is definitely very, very weird, but even the boxes are clueless, and frankly, if this is a ploy from some Evil Baddies trying to do nefarious shit, he wished they’d gone about it this way sooner.

There is something uncannily familiar about the man, and surely they could be married, right? Wade just has some trouble recalling how it happened. With how often he’s been shot in the head recently, that’s plausible.

 **Let’s not ask** , White cautions.

 _P_ _retend to have a seizure so he’d put his hands on us_ , Yellow suggests.

Before Wade could start doing that, or just comment on their care system (because how senseless it is, having him give up his bed for some fool who just got one of their legs amputated? He wasn’t even examined or was he, holy shitballs did he just miss this hot twink nurse (husband???) putting his hands all over him _noooooooooooooooooooooooooooot fair not fucking fair_ ), the sex on legs says:

“Look, this is terribly unprofessional of me, but would you consider giving me your number?”

Or something equally baffling.

Wade squeals. Quiets suddenly. Squeals again.

**How does he not have our number if he’s married to us?**

_Shut up, it’s not important, if he’s willing to fuck us with looking this monstrous…_

“Do you have some burn-victim kink? No, wait, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re willing to sit on my face I don’t really care.”

He even flushes prettily. Certain things harden.

Wade ends up writing his number on his arm with a sharpie. ‘Nurse Parker’ promises to text him when his shift ends, and Yellow sings “Love is in the Air” all the way home. Wade is so high on his smile it’s barely even annoying.

 **We forgot to check out his ass** , White reminds him mournfully, as he’s getting ready to patrol.

_If it is at least half as fine as Spidey’s, I’ll have no objections._

_*_

Peter spends the rest of his day fretting over Deadpool. After Wade leaves, he calls back all the instances the man went to a lot of trouble to keep Peter from seeing what he looks like. Was it just a secret identity problem? Wade gave away his first name easy enough, about three weeks after they started hanging out, and after the fourth time they ate together on a rooftop. It’s a bit pathetic that Peter is counting, but whatever. Anyhow, this was definitely important to Deadpool. Hiding his scars.

Still, it’s not fair if he knows his face and the other man doesn’t. He sort of wants to talk about the whole exchange, especially the flirting. Masked up, they are fairly friendly with each other, as friendly as anyone can be with a mercenary who’s every second sentence is a double entendre, and sure he says Peter has a nice ass, but come on, its just a bottom. Everybody has one. So Peter’s might be a bit more nicely shaped than a few others’, in DP’s opinion anyway, but that doesn’t _mean_ anything.

So the flirting with Spider-Man might not even be real, and damn Peter’s depressing life but he kind of wants it to be. Sure Deadpool is a lot of trouble ( _challenge_ ), but interesting people rarely come without any baggage, and there is something about him that Peter recognized and appreciated, from the first moment they met.

He also has a very muscular body and incredibly beautiful eyes.

Therefore maybe Peter should show him his face, and then perhaps Deadpool would make a move, or maybe wouldn’t do anything but grow weird and distant, but in any case, Peter will know for certain, and everything is better than spending hours of a day wondering if someone likes you back or not.

Except if Deadpool continues as it were and Peter will eventually have to get some courage and ask him whether he means it. Or just ask him out period.

He is slightly worried though, what if Wade starts to show up at his workplace to harass him if he knew his identity? Oh no, he wouldn’t be that inconsiderate. He respects _some_ personal boundaries. He remembers that rant a few patrols ago about Fifty Shades being horrible, with the stalking bit addressed too. But then again, it’s Deadpool. He’s a bit of a loose cannon on his best days.

*

Okay, so they (Yellow and Wade and reluctantly, even White) might get so lost in finding out as many things about ‘Nurse Parker’ as possible. Then there is some _completely unrelated_ wanking, and then there is time to get dressed for the date with Spidey. Most days he’d just go commando, but today’s success totally warrants wearing his second favorite neon thong. He just found out he’s been married, after all! Even if that was only a joke the nurse made, which it must have been, just a prank, like who would even propose to him, and he still got sort of asked out. GUH, it’s quickly turning angsty in his head even without the boxes.

How the hell could a completely random, attractive man smile at him like he was not hopelessly fucked in the face cavity?

*

After a whole day of agitating, the evening finally comes, and Deadpool is already on their usual rooftop when Peter arrives in his Spider-Man suit.

He’s been muttering to himself, but he stops when Peter walks up to him.

“I have tragic news, Spidey babe,” Deadpool says, somehow making his mask concerned-looking. His voice is ashen.

“What happened?”

“I’d been taken off the market,” Deadpool says, still as if he was announcing someone’s death. Actually, no, he was much more casual about ‘un-aliving’. He said it as if he was heartbroken over the closest LUSH closing. “There is a dead-gorgeous nurse who swears on his life I am his husband and you know how I’m a gentleman, I can’t leave my darling just because I got weirdly specific amnesia regarding him and his beautiful face. I also can’t leave him even if your gorgeous ass admitted it loved me back. But we could have a tearful farewell with heavy petting, I suppose.”

Peter’s stomach tightens, his heart suddenly fluttery and his whole chest heating up. That cleared up whether Deadpool found him attractive without the mask pretty well. Still, this is an ample opportunity to mess with the merc, and Peter Parker is not above that. (Even if he mostly just isn’t fucking ready to reveal his flaming face quite so soon. Not just yet.) He wants to get a pretty memorable reaction, and if that comes with the risk of getting shot if the other doesn’t appreciate the joke, well… It is a risk he has to take. For America. And mostly for the slight, slim chance that if Deadpool really, really means all the flirting, there is no way he wouldn’t ask him out when he turned out to be two people he complimented before.

“Oh, I’m sure you can make an exception for little old me,” he teases. Although his tone is light and flirty, his fingers, which he uncurled to prepare for taking the mask off tremble a little.

“Oh, Spidey, I’m sure your fantastic behind would... Oh no, wait, does that mean you’re-” He gasps theatrically. “I didn’t know you were into polyamory! Such an advanced human be-- no, wait, why shouldn’t I say that? You think someone will take offense? From the audience? There is clearly only two people reading and only one of them will even leave kudos, calm yo’ tits Whitey.”

As Deadpool is lost to a conversation in his head, Peter takes some time to second-guess himself again (for the umpteenth time that day). Surely there _were_ a million reasons against revealing his secret identity? Why can’t he remember any of them now?!

But even the spider-sense stopped tingling or even categorizing DP as a threat the second time they ‘accidentally’ patrolled together, and Peter felt so intrigued by him and he was looking forward to the flirting every day, even the should-be-bothersome comments about his bum, and he wanted to contradict Deadpool when he muttered something self-deprecating about his looks and it would be only fair and… fuck, why can’t he just do it already? If he was being honest, he started entertaining this whole face reveal idea some days before the whole hospital incident, but caution always held him back before.

It’s not that he is not perfectly aware of what he is getting himself into. Yes, DP knowing his name and face would be a considerable risk. But the hopeless romantic in him is louder, damn it.

Fuck, he has to try.

“And just why would Betty go there anyway? If not to join in on the threesome funsome part-time loving? WHAAIT! I have a fantastic, groundbreaking, rainbow filled-skittles don’t sue me good idea! You and Nurse Parker and me could do the do! Dododo!” He demonstrates what he means by trying to mime something graphic but gets tangled up when he wants to do three cocks on two hands.

“See, that would be a bit difficult,” Peter swallows. This is it. Wade figured out how to do something pretty graphic with the fingers, even if it is difficult to follow how that could have been translated into an actual sexual situation involving three persons.

“Why, you don’t swing that way?” Deadpool asks candidly, pressing a gloved hand to his sides and laughing heartily. “Haha, get it, Spidey? Swiiiiing.”

It would have been funny too if Peter didn’t already use that joke a hundred times in the privacy of his bathroom.

“No, I absolutely swing that way,” Peter admits, easier than he thought he would, considering that this was only the third time he actually came out to someone. He hated how his heart rate quickened and he decided to fucking _stop worrying_ about it. He ripped off the mask a second later before he lost his remaining courage. “It’s more because of… this.”

Deadpool turns to look at him and freezes in the middle of the motion.

Peter expected screaming in a girly voice, like one time when they had to save a particularly cute kind of dog (and its tiny old lady owner).

Instead, there is a small gasp from under the mask, and a barely audible:

“Oh.”

Then silence, only broken by Peter’s frantically beating heart. He doesn’t even dare to breathe.

For once, Deadpool’s mask doesn’t change into an over-exaggerated grimace.

*

**Whaaaaaat.**

_WHAT? WHAT? WHAT????!!!!_

“ _Wow.”_

*

“Holy shitcakes, Baby Boy.” Comes from under the mask after a whole minute. Softly, reverently. “You’re…. beautiful.”

Peter swallows. He wills himself not to blush. He is sure it doesn’t work.

“Also, totally married to me, NO TAKEBACKS!” There is something that sounds forced in his throat, and Peter wants that stupid mask off to see his eyes again. “Even if he was joking, you can’t just play with people’s feelings like that, no fair, how are we not to get a hard-on, and a heartbreak, and a super duper cute painted donkey...”

“Hey.” Peter reaches out, touching Deadpool’s wildly gesturing arm gently. “My name is Peter.”

The mercenary focuses in on him again.

“Peter.” He repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Peter Hot As Fuck Nurse Parker AKA Best Ass In This Universe Spider-Man. Well, fuck me sideways. Any which ways. Any way you like it, in front of the fireplace, in front of your yacht, I don’t give a damn baby just take me!”

Peter smiles at him softly. He has no regrets, really, except for…

“And we were never really married, I was just teasing you in the hospital.”

Deadpool stops singing.

“Oh, don’t give up on us so quickly, Spidey. The multiverse is big and full of slash, it would be more accurate to say that we are not married _yet_.”

Peter shrugs, feeling goofy and untroubled and light:

“Well, I suppose if you play your cards right...”

There is that sound of joy right there that directly relates to the butterflies in Peter’s stomach. He relaxes even further. Yeah, this will be all right.

“Do my ears deceive me or did you turn your flirting volume up, little Spider?” Deadpool asks, moving into his space with one, impossibly swift motion. “It’s either that or this is an extremely clever ploy from a baddie. Or someone came up with a drug I’m not immune to. But I have to say, as long as we can get you in our boudoir tonight, I don’t really give a warty assed fucklenut.”

“Oh-kay,” Peter murmurs. “Listen, there is no nefarious plot. Even though that’s exactly what I’d probably say if there was one. Shit. Nevermind.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I simply recognized you in the hospital and I figured it wasn’t fair that I knew how your face looked but you didn’t know that it was me.”

“Makes more sense now why you were so familiar, once I didn’t try to dig up those non-existent memories of a spouse.” Deadpool shrugs, sounding incredibly like a regular person for a few surprising seconds. “Also, you’re way too cute and you don’t actually owe me anything. I am very hard to miss... or mistake.” He adds proudly pushing his chest out in a very peacock-like manner. Which would have been extra funny had it not been so impressive with all his muscles and spandex and ugh. Why does Peter have to have so much appreciation for firm, hard muscles? Very inconvenient. Very gay. Not that other genders couldn’t develop very huge, impressive muscles. Just because neither Gwen nor MJ were the type doesn’t mean that a lot of other superheros… But Deadpool’s guns are _something else_.

“Jeez, you’ve seen this face and your first instinct was to show me yours? That’s… I don’t know what that is, baby boy, because I know you’re the nicest snowflake on this block, but its kind of hard to assign any other meaning to it than utter idiocy. To have such an ugly fucker as me--”

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with you, Deadpool,” Peter interrupts. “Sure, your face is scarred. But your eyes are very pretty... Pretty expressive I mean!” Oh no, no, abort, abort, his head is going to blow up from all the blood rushing there. “And I’ve already known you for months, and I like you. It’s not like I’m going to stop being friends with you just because of how you look.”

“Yeah, there is a lot to unpack there.” He shakes his head violently, maybe to clear it, maybe just for dramatics. “Most importantly, you _like me_? Like, like-like or just like? Please let it be like-like.”

Peter blushes even harder. Fuckfuckfuck.

“I am not answering that with your mask still on.”

“What?” Deadpool startles back then comes back immediately, leaning in even closer. He smells like Mexican food and blood. “There is no way that… you are fucking with us. Oh, shut up.”

“Me?”

“No, not you.”

“Take it off,” Peter whispers again, mouth going dry.

“That’s how all great porn movies start, Petey.”

“So why are you hesitating?”

The mask is ripped off the next second. That scarred face is back, and it takes Peter’s breath away.

“I’m not. I’m brave and everything, see? Stupid of you to imply that I might have feelings about this like a weenie-beanie. We all die like toxic masculinity here.” But he stares at Peter, eyes widened and face frowning. “I’d stop talking too, but then it’d be _awkwaaaard_ and that could be my bio on Twitter right? Except I’d never use Twitter coz 160 characters, or is it twice that now, anyhow, what is that enough for, I can’t even in longer sentences thanks very much. No brackets can hold us, am I right, boxes? Hah-ha, yea.”

So Peter might have a HUGE soft spot for flustered Deadpool. It’s barely even a spot as much as it is a whole freaking pool. A very alive pool, but that’s terrible as far as puns go so lets move on.

“I wasn’t sure if you meant all that flirting, actually. And after we met- like- face to face, I figured I wanted to see your proper reaction when I say that I actually... like-like you. Even if you were only joking and it’s gonna be super-awkward.”

He doesn’t sing ‘awkward’ as Wade did, but he is sure his point still comes across.

Deadpool leans closer. He is close enough that Peter has to cross his eyes a bit to keep looking into his.

“Really?” He asks, tone huskier, and Peter shivers a tiny bit.

“Really.”

“So if I would press my face really close to you with epic smooching-intent, you wouldn’t push me away?”

Peter swallows again.

“Bring it in, Big Man.”

Deadpool chuckles darkly.

“Oh, you’ve made such a terrible mistake, little Spidey,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Peters for only a split second. “There will be no way out of the Deadpool-Castle, no, sir. I ain’t gonna let you go ever, ever again.”

They meet in a longer kiss, hot, heavy, filthy. Peter is so lost in it so quickly, he completely misses the bits where Wade pulls him into his lap but the next thing he most definitely is aware of, them rutting against each other, breaking their frantic kissing for gasps of air.

“Oh, Spidey, fuck,” Wade whines, pressing their bodies closer to provide a harder surface for them to thrust against. Holy Christ, the mercenary’s abs are so firm they could have been made of steel and Peter headily realizes he’s going to come in his pants against them.

“You’re so hot,” He moans into Wade’s ears, feeling up his rock hard torso, sliding over to his equally hard cock. “So strong.”

“Well lube me up and call me Daddy,” Wade mutters between the ummm fuck, so sexy kisses. “You push all my buttons, baby boy. Are we sure we’re not dreaming?”

Whoever Wade is asking, they must not answer, and Peter can’t be bothered to do either. He is trying to find an opening on Deadpool’s suit, where he can slip his hand in and stoke Wade’s dick undisturbed by sticky spandex.

“If we are, you’re not allowed to wake me until I come,” Deadpool adds, pleading to the sky. Peter brings his gaze down and kisses him deeply.

“How does this fucking thing come off?” He asks after Wade gives him a toothy, slightly dazed smile.

“The Spider-Man curses,” Wade shouts triumphantly.

“Quiet, you. He doesn’t,” Peter shakes him a bit, a good enough pretense to slide closer. “Peter Parker on the other hand...”

His voice trails off into a moan as Wade sucks a mark on his throat.

“Oh pretty,” Wade muses, “Your voice alone could make me cum… but then you also have that perfect pert ass parked in my lap… seriously I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Ugh,” Peter answers. He never had a lover before who could do real, who-cares-if-it’s-ridiculous dirty talk, or even anyone who talked quite as much in the bedroom (okay, rooftop) as Deadpool did. His underwear situation is getting worse and worse. He never before came in the suit. Is that a gross hero-law violation? Hooking up with DP had to be against the ‘good guy rules’ in and of itself. Guh, who even cares? Peter always fucks up, even with the best intentions.

Deadpool’s strong hands find his bottom and knead them. Honestly it wouldn’t have been such a turn-on for Peter if he didn’t hear how heavy the mercenary’s breathing got from that simple motion.

He starts moving up and down, imitating how he’d ride his cock if the colorful uniforms weren't in the way. He is already dripping, and all he wants is Wade’s hand on his cock or perhaps just his voice in his ear telling him what he wants to do to him…

“Wade...” He pants.

“Spidey, fuck, fuck,” Wade stutters, “Say my name again!”

Peter pushes against him repeatedly, hands frantically flying around on Deadpool’s body.

“Wade! Wade, I’m really close,” He whines while trying to get him to kiss him again.

“You can come baby boy, anytime you like,” the man whimpers into his ear, nuzzling along his hairline and ears, and then he squeezes Peter’s ass and bites into his earlobe at the same time…

His orgasm seems to trigger Wade’s, and Peter watches, fascinated, as the older man groans at an obscene volume, throws his head back and his eyelids flutter close. Beautiful.

However, it’s over so quickly, with Wade completely relaxed one second, then focusing his attention back onto him a few seconds later. Peter wants to see him laid out on his bed, fucked silly and boneless.

He pulls Wade closer to him and kisses him, long and sweet.

“I never came in the suit before, and it’s utterly disgusting,” he confides, and Wade laughes, mentioning something about getting used to it after a hundred times or so. “So there’s no more patrol for me tonight. Would you like to walk me home?”

*

How could Wade say no. To anything. To the beautiful, beautiful person who offered his delectable, hungry mouth for him to kiss. To the lithe, strong body that came alive in his embrace. To his gleaming, happy eyes when he invited Wade in, but instead of coffee, they spent so much time making out against his door.

So Wade didn’t say no. He didn’t want to, of course, but the boxes start reminding him immediately after he leaves Petey’s place how much of a Bad Idea this had been.

So Deadpool stops in a park halfway between his home and Peter’s, and has a debate with Yellow and White. A very loud, very passionate debate.

By the time they finish (and the cops show up, some people call 911 for the stupidest reasons, like a man in a costume shooting himself in the head for like what, five times? You just can’t have any fun nowadays, can you), Wade knows what he has to do.

*

“Petey? Hear me out, baby boy.”

Peter crosses his arms but he doesn’t seem too bothered, more like someone who needs to get back in their warm bed otherwise they'd fall asleep as they stand. In this case, glaring at a mouthy mercenary who broke into their apartment at… four AM.

“You deserve someone nice and stable. With less un-aliving side jobs.” He swallowed heavily. “Point is, I know you don't like killing. It’s the main thing I’m good at, though, so I really need some time to sort out if I can be, like, you know... _myself_ without it.”

Peter raises an eyebrow sarcastically. He has no right to do that so invitingly and with such a sexy eyebrow. How the opposite of horrible.

“Well it’s not like its a hobby or an addiction, Pool. You can just stop.”

“Well that’s where White disagrees but you’re smarter. Point is, I haven't been in a real relationship since… fuck knows how long. Since Vanessa, or maybe even before-before Weapon X. I’m sorry, I have no idea which universe we’re supposed to be. That’s not helpful, Yellow.”

Peter nods, perhaps out of sheer confusion. What he said, it didn’t make much sense except that it did – in his head anyway.

“So I wanna date you like properly? After I’m back. So he doesn’t have too much time to change his mind or meet Ryan Reynolds and fall in love, why do you think, shitbiscuit?”

“I’ll just assume that wasn’t meant for me.” Peter muses, already deep in his thoughts.”I don’t mind if you need a road trip before committing, Wade. I’m an adult too. If you’d just rather get out of the whole thing, I’d understand. I know I’m hardly anyone’s idea for a catch. I have no money, no class, just a bad penchant of attracting trouble and a history of terrible decisions. I cannot exactly offer you the world.”

For once, Wade doesn’t try to joke away the tension.

“Its okay to think about it, I mean.” Peter clarifies when the mercenary remains oddly quiet.

“I’m sure my burning attraction towards that heavenly booty won’t change, baby boy. But yeah, I need to get to know you more. But you sure as hell deserve a better man than an ugly scarred fucker who murders baddies as a day job.”

“I don’t have any problems with your skin. But stopping with the killings… you know I’d really appreciate that.”

There is a catch everywhere, isn’t there.

“I know, baby boy. Kiss me before I go?”

Peter steps closer.

“You’re leaving right now?”

“Ain’t no time like the present.”

With a long tongue-y goodbye and a climbing out a window later (and not falling into the bins, thanks very much), he’s gone.

*

 

_**Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.** _

_**Bangbangbangbangbang.** _

 

*

Every time Peter hears a gunshot, or hears that someone has been taken in with a wound that was caused by… actually, strike that. He thinks about Wade _all the time_. Tries to not wonder about what uncomfortable moral dilemma he’d have to face if Deadpool decided that he didn’t want to stop killing people, after all. Peter has a care of duty as a Nurse, a Hero, and above all, as a human being.

Still, most of the time he is simply worried about Wade not coming back at all.

*

If you wanted to stop eating chocolate, the best way to achieve that would have been to eat chocolate until you became sick at even the sight of it. So it stands to reason (at least White assures it does) to do so too with murder. So Wade calls Weasel and tells him to offer a 50% discount of his usual fees. A “buy one assassination, get two” of sorts. Work flows in. He is immediately very busy.

And some people are just disgusting like that. They want grandpa killed for his money and the company, they want their wife murdered for cheating, the whole bang bang slice slice deal of thing. And slice-slice, Wade was so good at. He goes up to the point where he is positively soaked in other’s blood and he can’t fucking turn off the voices that remind him that Spidey will not want him after this. It was a fucking miracle he fancied him in the first place, but now Wade ruined things with accurate, violent precision.

He thinks about not going back, about finding a way to erase Peter from his memories. He would be better off without him, but then OTHER PEOPLE would get to touch his perfect butt and not Deadpool and surely that would be a worse crime than murder! How would this stupid story work if Wade decided to be a martyr for no fucking good reason (and don’t give me that look, the Greater Good got even Dumbledore into trouble), and fuck if after surviving cancer, losing Vanessa, going through all that shit and pain his own happy ending would be beaten by his fucking self-consciousness.

So what if Spidey changes his mind. Murder would still be there. It will always be there. He’s choosing a better thing now – he’s giving _them_ an option.

He gets back to Peter as soon as possible, before the boxes manage to talk him out of it. He jogs down the last few meters to his house while listening to deafening heavy metal to drown them out. Truth is, he is terrified.

Peter opens up the door, dressed for work. Right, couse it’s the crack o’ dawn, romantic lightning and all.

He smiles when he sees him: that’s a good sign.

“Missed me, baby boy?”

“Yeah,” Peter says softly, warmly, and drags him through the door for a few enthusiastic welcome kisses. And if Nurse Parker is terribly late to work and has to hide a cum-stain on his uniform all day… Well, that’s just how happy-ends go, eh?

**Author's Note:**

> First spideypool ever - hope I didn't do too horribly. Make sure to give some love to Lizardyne, who made the art pieces for this fic, and check out their other work too, because they're totally awesome.


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